


The Witch's Game

by ElZacharie



Series: The Witch's Toy [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Animal Transformation, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Centaurs, Children, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Logic, Harm to Children, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Sexual Slavery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Slavery, Time Skips, Transformation, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElZacharie/pseuds/ElZacharie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, the Dakota crime family was inflicted with a curse that transformed them into the very creatures they had tried to enslave many generations ago. They became complacent in their state of being, however, proud of who they were.</p><p>South Dakota is the first and only human to be born to the Dakota name in over 200 years.</p><p>All thanks to a bored witch's game.</p><p>(Tags contain warnings for future chapters and plot points.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First several chapters will be world building and developing the backstories of character.
> 
> This chapter includes mentions of "in world racism" (for lack of a better term), mutilation (sort of), alcoholism, and death.
> 
> This series will hopefully include cute shit locus-hocus-pocus.tumblr.com, who helped make this a reality, helped me come up with.
> 
> A big thank you to thepheonixqueen.tumblr.com who helped make this fic what it is now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of July 26th 2016, I've change golem to doll thanks to grif-exe's suggestion. It's got a lot less cultural lore and is way easier.

The sky was burning with souls ascending to heaven.

And fire, the witch’s companion was quick to remind them, but the sourpuss’s opinion was ignored. It was beautiful, the first glimpse of the outside world they’d had in nearly two centuries. It was too bad so many had to die because of it, but that wasn't entirely their fault.

The witch closed their eyes and focused on the burning ranch in the distance, searching for their target. Her aura was dim— badly injured, no doubt, but she would survive. They did not care about her, however. They were more interested in the two small auras radiating in her stomach. Twins! What a lucky gal, but they only had enough magic to work on one infant, unfortunately.

Their companion thought this was a silly idea, a waste of time. Maybe it was. But they wanted to have fun, and, by the gods, they would.

“Come on, lil’ one,” the witch crooned to themselves, focusing their power on the small aura. “Let’s mix things up a little.”

* * *

It wasn't that South was jealous of her brother North. They were twins, even looking as different as they did, North with four hooves and South standing on two regular human feet. North with his stupid horns starting grow in, Mama and Papa always parading him about and telling everyone how strong their calf was. She’d always catch whispers from the adults when she visited her family on the ranch— she was an absolute anomaly. Not only was it a one in a million chance for a pair of twins to be born as two completely species, the Dakota line had long ago been cursed to always be of taur blood— no one in their family was, or could be, human, until her.

South Dakota was _not_ jealous of her twin brother in the slightest. He did nothing to deserve her ire, even if he was more than willing to let her vent to him. She had nothing to be jealous of.

South Dakota was angry.

She wasn't angry at her parents. Mama and Papa still loved her, no matter how human she was. No matter how much they despised her foster family for being human. No matter how often they assured her she would grow to be a wonderful cow someday, even if she walked on two hooves.

Neither was she angry at her foster parents, unsure of what to do with the thing they'd been saddled with. Papa Flowers said there was nothing wrong with her, that she was perfect as she was, taur or not. Papa Reggie just patted her head and said that only she could decide who she was.

South Dakota was angry at the universe for making her this way.

* * *

The twins were nine years old when the promise was made.

“I’m gonna break this curse,” she said, brushing her brother’s fur out as they sat under the shade of a great oak tree. “I’m gonna find the asshole—”

“Language,” he muttered. She didn’t listen to him, of course, but it was habit by now.

“— that did this to us, and I’m gonna kill him.”

North sighed and turned towards her. “You know that’s just a myth right? Killing a witch doesn’t just suddenly break a curse. Especially one as old as ours. Who knows if the original witch is even still alive?”

South grit her teeth, the brush coming down rougher on his lower half than necessary. He mooed softly in pain, trying to wiggle away from her. “I _know_ he’s alive. I can feel it.”

“And what if you do break the curse? Mama and Papa aren’t gonna adjust easily to being humans.”

“Papa’s a pureblood, dumbass—”

“South, language!”

“— Mama’s the only one who’d be affect- effec- changed back to human.”

What North wanted to say is that Mama was never human in the first place, there was nothing to change her back to. To ask how she could accomplish something that hadn’t been done in seven generations of Dakota’s.

What he did say was, “Promise?”

It was worth seeing that toothy grin one last time, even if he didn’t believe in her.

* * *

“Mr. Flowers, you are aware of the reason I called you in today, correct?” the principal asked slowly, as if the monster had trouble understanding him.

Butch gave the human his best smile, fangs and all. The shiver he received delighted the serthis far more than words could describe. “Well, Mr. Garcia, I can only it's about my little buttercup! She's such a sweetheart— I would do anything for her. Absolutely… _anything.”_

From the seat next to him, an 11-year-old South groaned and rolled her good eye. “Cappy, stop being weird.”

Mr. Garcia shifted uncomfortably and coughed into a claw. “Well, Mr. Flowers, I am very happy to see how much you… _love_ Ms. Dakota, but her behavior has become a major problem. She’s been getting into fights nearly every day, but it hasn’t led to physical confrontation until now.”

Flowers glanced at South and her swollen black eye, frowning. She refused to look at him.

“One of our other students, Avery Hargrove, has been known to bully Ms. Dakota for her lineage. We take no qualms with it, of course!” Garcia was quick to add. “We have a very strict no discrimination policy here, and are quick to action. Unfortunately, Mr. Hargrove’s father is a… very powerful man. We’ve tried to discipline Avery in the past, but his father finds ways to excuse him completely.

“I’m unsure of what happened that caused Ms. Dakota’s outburst, but I do know the outcome. Mr. Hargrove is…”

“A fucking piece of shit!” South cried suddenly, startling the principal. “He called Mama a cowfucker and said Cappy should be sent to a slaughterhouse! He said he couldn’t wait to eat my brother!”

Butch’s tail wrapped itself gently around South’s middle, her tiny body shaking with repressed sobs. He’d heard plenty of comments like that towards himself— many believed serthi should be classified as taurs, to join taurs on their reservations. It happened so often for him that he’d completely forgotten that South didn’t have his thick skin, figuratively, that is.

Mr. Garcia glanced between the two of them, waiting for permission to continue. Flowers placed the little human in his lap, who immediately clung to his middle, and gestured for him to continue.

“Mr. Hargrove is in the ER. Ms. Dakota shoved him through a window and a shard of glass pierced his eye. It’s very likely he will never have vision in that eye for the rest of his eye. Best case scenario, he will only be able to see simple shapes. His father has said he will not press charges, so long as Ms. Dakota no longer attends this school.”

“Oh no,” Butch sighed, petting South’s hair. “Little moo, why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t you let Cappy handle this?”

The girl only sobbed louder in response.

He would never get to know her answer.

* * *

Reginald Flowers nearly crashed into the ER doors, holding a screaming 11-and-a-half-year-old in his arms. She hadn’t stopped screaming ever since she saw Cappy’s body on the floor, clutching at his chest and gasping for breath. She _wouldn’t_ _stop_ , no matter how much her Papa begged her to calm down, that screaming would only make things worse.

Soon enough, the screaming had become so unbearable that he finally allowed an orderly to give his daughter a small dose of an anesthetic and put her to sleep. Reggie held her tightly as her breathing evened and slowed, rocking slowly back and forth. Once she had quieted down, Reginald lay her on the couch and went to see his husband.

When she woke up, it would’ve been because of her father being dragged, kicking and screaming, out of the hospital room.

South was too groggy to understand what had happened at the time, and it would take years for Reggie to be sober enough to help her piece together the puzzle.

Captain Butch Flowers, age 42, had a heart attack. He was found by his husband and adoptive daughter in the living room shortly after collapsing. An ambulance had come and taken him away. As Butch’s husband attempted to calm the daughter, a young, tired witch doctor had come in and given him aspirin.

Captain Butch Flowers was fatally allergic to aspirin. He died at 2200 hours. After the autopsy, the doctor confessed to her mistake. He was buried one week later. The witch doctor never found work in the city again.

Reginald Flowers, age 45, began drinking one week after the funeral. He died of liver failure on the anniversary of his husband’s death 7 years later.

South Dakota had just turned 18-years-old when she was left completely alone in the world.

* * *

“I do not understand the point of this,” the doll grunted, handing a small vial of blood to its master. “You’ve already siphoned enough magic from the girl's suffering to sustain yourself for the next half century.”

The witch rolled their eyes, snatching the vial from the creature’s hand. “Of course you don’t understand. I’m doing this because it’s _fun_ , not like your porcelain little brain could ever process that,” they added, flicking the other’s temple for effect. If its frown deepened, the witch did not notice, or simply did not care. “I’ve been in hiding for over a hundred years— you would not believe how boring that is! Okay, maybe I should stop talking as though you can actually feel— force of habit, sorry! Anyways, I have… special interests. And this is one of them. I am a patient person; this will be more than enjoyable for me.”

“And what will you do when the curse is unbound? You cannot draw it out forever,” the doll stated matter-of-factly. “The girl will return to her true form, and you will be left without a plaything.”

“Oh, you poor, stupid thing,” the witch crooned, smiling wickedly. They popped open the vial, taking a long, satisfied sniff before pouring the contents onto the floor, where a sigil had been drawn in chalk. “That’s only the first part of my plan.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the last worldbuilding chapter
> 
> I'd also like to ask any of those who read this: would you rather church be an otter, or cheetah like his sister? I'm really torn, because I have a really cute idea that otter Church would give Tex his favorite rock as a marriage proposal.

Carolina had seen dead bodies before.

Being the heir apparent to the Blood Gulch Canyon Ranch, the cheetah cub had prided herself on learning every little thing there was to know about her future kingdom. She'd seen the witch doctors put old and rabid taurs down, hunted food for her new little brother, and had found the body of a human hanging in the forest far from the reach of her home, though she never told anyone about it.

She had seen dead bodies before.

But never in this number.

Leonard Junior whimpered softly in Carolina’s arms as the felitaur made her way through the tunnel she had dug years ago— she would've suggested evacuating through it when her father began herding them into the cellar, but it lead directly to their house, which was being devoured by flames. She couldn't stay in the cellar either, despite her father’s instructions; one of the residents had given premature birth, and the distraction was too good to pass up on to check on the surface.

Now that she was on the surface, however, she would have preferred to stay in the darkness.

But she couldn't go back, not after she'd gotten so far, she told herself as she combed through the bodies that littered the land. She needed to find her mother and father. Junior needed his mother.

Just at the edge of the ranch, something glittered and caught Carolina's eye. She held the whining cub close to her chest, Carolina trotted to it and picked it up with the utmost care.

In her hand was her mother's wedding ring, and a single finger.

Carolina’s sobs and yowls, accompanied by Junior’s startled shrieks, rang so loud that no one heard the click of a camera shutter and the rustle of bushes as a sleazy journalist creeped away from the scene.

They could stand to make a lot of money from that shot.

* * *

A ruler slapped South’s desk with a resounding crack, startling the teen to consciousness with a shriek. The other students giggled among themselves, but quickly silenced when the teacher glared at them.

“ _Ms._ Dakota,” he snarled, as though the very title itself was an affront to his very existence. “Since you seem to know everything I could possibly teach you, why don't you tell the class the origin behind the picture on the projector?”

Suppressing a groan, South glanced at the picture, then felt her stomach drop. On screen was the picture of a felitaur cheetah cub holding a newborn in her arms as she screamed and cried. Of course she would be chosen to talk about it— it was no secret where she had come from, and many assumed she knew the girl in the picture. The girl despised her for reasons she didn't understand; probably for the same reasons she and her classmates could never get along.

“The picture was taken directly after the Blood Gulch Massacre,” said South. “The owners had tried to evacuate the farm, but were overwhelmed before everyone got out, including the owner’s children, and stuffed them in a cellar. The girl found a way out of the cellar and was found, hysterical and unresponsive.”

The teacher eyed South cautiously before grunting his approval and turning to address the class. “Correct. Yes, the girl in the photograph was the daughter of the ranch’s founder, and the figure in her arms their newborn son. As you may have recently seen in the news, the girl and her father have sued the government to remove the photograph— taken without her knowledge or consent— from national curriculum, but they were quickly shot down. They blah blah blah…”

* * *

Time had not made Avery Hargrove any more bearable. In fact, it made him even more obnoxious.

And he was South’s only friend.

Despite his father’s attempts to keep the girl who made him legally blind away from him, their fight had only made Avery even more interested in her. But, even more so, it made him more interested in taurs.

He had spent his days in the county hospital reading any and every book about the creatures he could get his hands on, committing them all to memory. He even convinced his father to drop the restraining order against South, allowing them to attend the same school once more.

Their first encounter freshmen year, his first year back from physical therapy and showing his new face to the world, Avery was the talk of the school, many kids trying to get him to spill the details on their years old dispute.

But the first thing Avery Hargrove did was apologize to her from the bottom of his heart.

It took a long time, but he'd grown on her, and he clung to her like nobody's business.

Which was the only reason he was spending the summer at the ranch with her.

“Oh my god, this is gonna be so cool!” Avery squealed from the back seat, vibrating as the car pulled into the driveway of the Church estate. “It looks even better than it does in the pictures!”

Reggie and South rolled their eyes in tandem. “I'll be sure to tell the director you said so, chap. Try not to get caught underfoot; the Cabooses’ son—”

Avery was out of the car before Reggie could finish, followed by a grumpy South. The old man rolled his eyes once more, taking a discreet swig from his flask before heading inside to greet his old friend and owner of the ranch.

“It's not that great,” South grumbled to Avery. “There's nothing to do here if you don't have fur, and everyone just gossips like old ladies.”

Whatever remark the boy had wished to shoot back at her immediately died on her lips as a bovitaur trotted towards them— North. Puberty had certainly been kinder to him than it had been to her, giving him perfect skin, a growth spurt, and a voice that Avery would soon describe as being one stolen from the voice of god himself.

“Sissy!” North cried, breaking into a gallop and tackling South in a bear hug. “You're here! Oh, I missed you so much! It's so good to see you!”

Her twin was uncharacteristically excitable, though it was her fault for surprising him with a visit. Her trips to the farm had become more and more infrequent, and South couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

“So, who's your friend?” North asked after letting her go. “You've never brought anyone with you before.”

Avery froze under North’s gaze, eyes bugging out cartoonishly and jaw hanging. He made a high, choked noise that caused the bull to tilt his head.

“Y… Yerk? Is that your name?”

The boy floundered like a fish out of water and made another sound.

“Oh! York!” North said matter-of-factly. “I thought our parents were the only ones to give us odd names, but I guess not. I'll go find mama and papa, I'm sure they'd like to meet you, York.”

North turned and took off in the other direction; _York_ had yet to recover, despite South’s snickering.

“I think I'm gay for your brother.”

That certainly shut her up.

* * *

The newly baptized York was in deep, South realized quickly. Any time North so much as breathed near him, the boy would completely freeze and stare at him until he became uncomfortable and left. At first, it was funny. Now, it was just sad.

“You just need to talk to him! We might be twins but we’re nothing alike,” South said, applying a glittery undercoat to York’s fingernails. “He'll totally be into you. Not much to choose from here, if you ask me.”

“It's not just that!” he whined. “Don't you remember what I said about him? I said I wanted to eat him, not… _eat_ him!”

“Oh my gods. Please do not be disgusting about my brother, or you're going to be blind in both eyes.”

“Sorry; but you're my best friend—”

“A fuckin’ wonder as to how that happened.”

“— and you're the only one who understands what I'm going through. Of course I'm gonna talk about it with you.”

“Okay, but I didn't just walk up to you and talk about how I wanted to bone your cousin— stop fidgeting! You're gonna smudge the nail polish.”

York ignored her. “He said he's gonna introduce me to the owners tomorrow and show me around. What if he thinks it's a date? What if he expects a kiss? What if he wants me to _say_ something? Oh gods!”

South yelled in frustration at the nail polish smearing on her leg. “Damn it, Avery, I don't care! Just think of something and leave me out of it!”

* * *

The second to last day on the farm, Avery— now called York by every inhabitant thanks to North— asked North to be his boyfriend.

Forgetting how strong he was, North had kicked a hole into the manor when he jumped in excitement. If the Director had been upset, he'd been calmed by North squeezing York in a hug and kissing his cheek.

South was happy for them. North was never too interested in the boys on the farm, and York had cut ties with the people he'd once called friends when he found they still tried to bully her.

But they could at least tone it down a little. Everytime South and York had a sleepover (her house, of course; his father would kill her with his own bare hands if given the chance), she'd have to suffer York begging to use her computer to video call his boyfriend, since there was no way in hell he could do it at home. They were incredibly gross, with York going into explicit detail about his body when he thought South was asleep. Fucker had even tried to jerk off on camera once.

Despite that, their relationship held strong. York dropped out of school when he was 16 and began working on the farm to be closer to his boyfriend. They had an official marriage when they were 18, one which South was invited to, but ignored to pretend that she was, at least, somewhat human. She cut off all contact with the farm when she turned 20, setting her sights on a new beginning.

Then came her 24th birthday.


	3. Chapter 3

For the past month, a barn owl had taken roost in the branches right next to South’s third story apartment window. It wasn't loud or annoying; in fact, it was a very polite neighbor, never making a peep.

All it ever did was stare.

South did everything she could to scare the damn thing off, even going so far as to call animal control, but it just hid until she was alone again. When her neighbors had complained about it, the landlord locked eyes with it and simply walked away, refusing to ever acknowledge its existence again.

When it became clear that the owl was not going to leave, South decided she might as well kill it with kindness. She left mice on the windowsill, which it eyed warily until she looked away, then gobbled down in one bite. Sometimes, she'd come home from work to find little presents at her windowsill, either dead rodents or odd trinkets one would find in a pawn shop’s jewelry display.

It was until, one week earlier, South let the bird into her apartment (threatening it to not let anyone else know she'd done so; she'd become fond talking to the thing) that she noticed it was injured.

Well, injured was a bit of a stretch. Whatever had happened, it had happened years ago, as the scars seemed to have long since healed over. The owl’s left leg was completely missing, replaced by a rudimentary prosthetic. There were scars along its face, centered around its eye, and a few feathers with notches that seemed to have never molted, for some strange reason.

She named it Siris.

* * *

Siris perched on South’s shoulder, watching the television with an intense stare. Well, more intense than usual— she swore the thing loved reality TV, if how he seemed to react at every twist was a clue. He’d peck her if she tried to changed the channel, so she was forced to watch the trashy shows with it.

Today’s pick was actually something good; an alchemy competition in which the contestants had to make a fully functional potion in a time limit, while also sabotaging their opponents. It was both hilarious and intense, and Siris’s favourite show. The owl would flap its wings and shriek at the TV like an overly invested housewife, and South would laugh at him, a mouthful of popcorn, and then give him a kernel to calm him down.

It was almost enough to make her forget that her 24th birthday was tomorrow.

If she’d stop complaining about it.

“And that bitch Catherine wouldn’t stop trying to ask me what kind of cake I wanted, like she was being slick!” South stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth, ignoring the look Siris gave her for interrupting the judges. “She kept coming up to my cubicle and coming up with fuckin’ excuses about allergies ’n’ shit, claiming it was for my file. I was like, ‘you’re in HR! You can get in it any time you want!’ I bet she’s gonna buy coconut again, ugh.”

Siris hooted in what was assumed to be agreement. Or maybe he was just agreeing with the judges’ on how the potion making was going; she could never tell. “I don’t get the big deal about birthdays. So you’ve made it through another year. Big deal. We’re all going to die someday.”

Onscreen, a cauldron exploded and the barn owl shrieked at the television. Of course he wasn’t listening. She sighed and stood up, brushing the crumbs off herself. Siris jumped onto the armrest and stared up at her until she gave it a scratch behind the neck. “Well, buddy, wish me luck. I’m gonna need it if I’m going to get through tomorrow.”

If South hadn’t turned away, she would’ve seen the pity in the owl’s eyes.

* * *

“Package for Ms. Dakota?” the mailman droned from the front of the office. As if he didn’t fucking know where her cubicle was, asshole was just too lazy walk over and actually hand it to her. South stalked up to him, snatching the paper she needed to sign with a little more force than necessary. “Jeez, are you alright? You look kind of pale.”

Her ears had been aching since she’d arrived, throbbing and pulsing, making everything too loud and grating. Every little noise was giving her a headache, but she needed to keep working to pay for rent. “I’m _fine_.”

The mailman eyed her warily, watching her stomp back to her cubicle. He’d have to let his boss know about this; it seemed things were going faster than had been planned.

* * *

A fucking necklace.

The package had a goddamn _fucking_ necklace in it, with some dumbass fucking rune she couldn’t read. South sneered at it, holding it up to the light.

“Ooh!” an overly enthusiastic voice— Catherine, no doubt— cooed. “A good luck charm! How sweet! Who sent it to you, South?”

“There’s no return address on the box.”

“Well, I’m sure whoever sent it must have had you in mind— well, of course they did, but look, it matches your eyes perfectly! Maybe you have a secret admirer?”

Ignoring the last remark, Catherine was surprising right. The charm was painted a light blue, the exact color of South’s eyes, right down to the sparkle. South clasped it behind her neck and let it fall against her chest. Suddenly, the pounding in her ears faded, her hearing returning to normal. She blinked; maybe it really was a good luck charm.

Catherine was still chattering on above her— talking about the birthday party, no doubt. Maybe it’d be okay if she humored her just this once…

* * *

“Target is in place and is in possession of the package,” Catherine murmured into her cell phone, waving at South with a happy smile when she looked into the conference room. “Waiting for your signal, sir.”

“Activate the package in thirty seconds exactly for maximum effect,” the doll replied. “Your master will not accept failure.”

The line went dead.

25 seconds left.

 _You can do this, Cathy_. _It’s for your family._

20 seconds left.

_It’s not like you’re going to kill her._

15 seconds.

_Just cause her excruciating pain._

10.

_They’ll kill your baby if you don’t do this right._

5.

Catherine pulled a crystal from her pocket.

4.

South took a bite of cake.

3.

Coconut. Gross.

2.

Catherine hesitated.

1.

The crystal was crushed into a fine dust.

0.

South’s scream cracked the conference room window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have body horror in it, most likely. If need be I will summarize it in the end notes so you won't have to read it if that squicks you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turns out theres not actually any graphic descriptions in this but feel free to skim near the end if need be
> 
> doesnt actually reach my 1k word limit but i could care less rn
> 
> contains a minor mention of vomiting

“Well, Ms. Dakota, we've gone through your lab results multiple times, and you're as healthy as a horse.” The doctor ran a webbed hand through the spikes along the top of their head. “Maybe even healthier. You seem to be suffering from a minor flux of magical energy from an unknown origin point, likely an amateur spellcaster trying to do a trick. If you hadn't been wearing that amulet, you'd have a lot more problems than a migraine.”

South grunted softly, tracing the curve of the charm with two fingers. The gem pressed into the middle of it had a hairline fracture just barely noticeable— she'd been told it was due to the surge of energy, but something kept nagging her about it, how convenient it all was. Whatever, it didn't matter anymore.

The doctor was droning on about how she would have to take a month off work because of the energy venting and blah blah blah. She wasn't listening, she just wanted to get out of this awful place and go home.

Like a miracle, a nurse popped their head into the room, cutting the doctor off.  “Dr. Lazarus, there's someone looking for you. I didn't quite catch his name, but he says he's with the governor? It seems urgent.”

Dr. Lazarus turned a pale yellow, head spikes sticking straight up. “Yes, thank you, Deborah. Tell him I'll be right there. Ms. Dakota, just check out at the front desk and you'll be free to go.”

Like she needed to be told twice. South shouldered past the nurse without so much as a thank you, ignoring the doctor trailing anxiously behind her to the nurse’s station, where a large, imposing nonhuman stood.

“Dr. Lazarus,” the doll grunted. The doctor’s pale yellow tone turned bright gold. “I trust you have done as you were told?”

“Yes, absolutely! The spell was executed exactly as your boss requested— we didn't have to do anything other than make a few adjustments to her file and cover a few things up.”

Another grunt. “Then your job is done. Let Mrs. Catherine that her family will be returned by the end of the week. Your gambling debts will be sorted within the hour.”

The doctor looked like they would faint from relief. “Oh, thank you, thank you, sir! God bless you!”

The doll scowled. “Do not thank me. A deal is a deal. You have fulfilled your end of the bargain, and we will fulfill ours.”

* * *

As soon as South had stepped onto the steps leading up to her apartment building, Siris flew right in front of her, shrieking. South slapped the owl away and entered the building, only to have it follow her.

“The fuck is up with you today, dude?” She held up her arm, scratching beneath his beak when he perched upon it, still tense. “You need to chill. How about we watch some TV? Your choice.”

That seemed to have some effect, at least for a bit. Siris allowed her to get inside her apartment before he began pecking irritably at the outline of the charm beneath her shirt.

“Quit that, you fuck!” South slapped the owl away from her, but Siris was undeterred. It climbed onto her shoulder and snapped at the necklace, its feeble string snapping from her neck when Siris flew out of reach.

South barely had time to curse before blood was rushing through her ears and her head was pounding. She screamed and fell to her knees, clutching her ears.

Something was wrong. Something was really wrong. And not wrong in the ‘oh, I need to see a doctor’ kind of way. Her ears were on fire, and— oh god, why was her skin moving like that? What was happening?

South stumbled to her feet and into the bathroom, curled over the bathroom sink, expelling the salad she'd had eaten earlier. The pulsing in her head was worse, and it felt like someone was pulling at her ears with a pair of tongs. Had she not been in such pain, maybe it would've been far more alarming when someone began rubbing her back.

“Breathe in and out, South. It'll hurt more if you don't relax.”

The blonde nodded, taking a moment to spit a bit of bile into the sink before taking deep breaths. Slowly, the pain ebbed away into a dull discomfort, like water in her ears. She tried to lift her head, but the stranger’s hand gently pushed her back down. “Not yet. I need you to stay alert.”

“Who are you?” South croaked. “How did you get in here?”

“Let's just say a little birdy told me.” The voice laughed at its own joke. “Now, I need to know, who gave you the amulet?”

“I— I don't know. It came in the mail. There wasn't a return address. It made me feel better when I put it on.”

“Yes, I could feel its power. A binding amulet, meant to prolong your suffering.”

“The _fuck_ are you talking about, you fuck?” South spat. She tried to stand, but, even without the stranger pushing her down, her knees were too weak to support her. “What is going on?”

The stranger hesitated. “There are forces at work far beyond your comprehension. I will explain it to you soon, but, for now, I need you to rest. The next few weeks will be extremely unpleasant.”

“Why should I trust you? I don't even know your name!”

“Just call me Siris, South Dakota.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> siris: hey what's up  
> fic's outline: screams and swerves off a mountain road

It was the same thing every year: North would get anxious when South didn't call a week a before their birthday, something she hadn't done since they were 12, York would have to spend hours making sure North calmed down so he wouldn't upset the herd, then present him with a silly card South grabbed from the market and sent to the farm a few days after their birthday.

Except, this year, there were no silly cards in the mail, South’s name scribbled hastily inside and then shoved into an envelope. Nothing to pass around the farm, to show them their favorite human was doing alright.

Things on the farm had become stressful after Sarge had attempted retirement, and South’s card was the last hope York had had to calm things down. A new handler for the bovitaurs was coming in just a week, relieving York of the duty he certainly wasn't qualified for, but no one knew anything about them. One of the new cervitaurs, Richard Simmons, sliced open Maine’s neck and fucked up his lower jaw while getting a shot. The director had a heart attack just a few hours later, saved by Caboose's gut feeling to peek into his bedroom window, and hadn't returned from the hospital. Adding that with the anniversary of the infamous massacre and school kids coming in droves on field trips, Carolina had been completely absent, leaving her completely-incompetent-at-anything-not-related-to-technology baby brother, now known only as Church, in charge.

Maybe stressful was an understatement.

At least York was away from the havoc, if only for a while. He'd gotten Church’s more than enthusiastic blessing to “drag South’s bitch ass back here” and took a bus to the address from last year’s card.

It'd been a long time since he'd been anywhere near the continent’s capital— not since the director helped him legally obtain freedom from his father’s oppressive grip. It took three days for the bus to reach it, and another four hours for him to arrive at South’s apartment.

So, when nobody answered his insistent buzzing, York was ready to strangle a small animal. He pressed the button so many times that he was certain he'd broken it, then pressed every single buzzer so that someone let him in. He stomped up to South’s door and banged on it until an older Asian man answered, glaring at him through the crack in the door.

All of York’s anger was immediately replaced with apprehension and fear— the man reeked of foul magic, like the smell of a forest fire, and his eyes were a deep lavender that seemed to pierce York’s soul. “Hi?”

The door began to close and York yelled, diving to keep it open. “Wait! I'm just looking for someone!”

“Whoever it is, they're not here.” From within the apartment, a woman groaned, loud and low. The man hesitated for a moment, glancing over his shoulder. “The only ones here are me and my… daughter.”

Fuck. Of course it was too much to ask for South to be here. York sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I'm just looking for a woman named South Dakota who used to—”

He didn't get to finish. The door flew open, followed by the feeling of cold steel pressed against his neck and a hand tugging his head back by his hair. “Who sent you? What are your intentions with South? What did they offer you?” the man demanded, emphasizing each question by pressing the knife against York’s pulse.

“I— I'm just a friend! I work for Dr. Leonard Church, and he didn't offer me anything! I mean, I haven't seen him in, like, a week!The dude’s been in the hospital this whole time, and nobody besides, like, three people even see him on a regular basis,” York babbled, glancing at the figure bundled in blankets that now stood at the Asian man’s side. “And, like, there's a ton of shit going down and everyone's upset, especially around this time of year, and usually South sends a card that calms everyone down, but she _didn't_ , and her brother is upset, so—”

“Aw fuck. I knew I forgot something,” South cursed.

* * *

The man— Siris, he called himself— set a glass of water in front of York, eyeing him suspiciously as he drank it down. South was huddled deep into the chair across from him, groaning occasionally. She hadn't shown her face the entire time, a fact that worried York.

“I haven't heard much about you, Mr. Hargrove,” Siris spoke up after a tense silence. “You practically fell off the grid after your public disowning.”

“Please, my father’s name is Mr. Hargrove; just call me York.” While his tone was light, there was an obvious tension and fear beneath his words. “And that's sorta what I wanted. It helps with the paparazzi. Sort of. They sneak onto the farm as tourists sometimes, and—”

“Oh my god, just shut up already,” South moaned, curling in on herself.

Siris shot her a small frown. “I'm sorry, York. It's good to know there are people who care for her still out there, but the fact you're here puts all of us in danger.”

“Uh, yeah. You said that before. Haven't really explained yourself yet!”

“Just fuck off, York. This doesn't concern you or the far— argh!”

Both men were on their feet immediately, watching South squirm and pant in pain. When she settled, the smell of grass drifted off of her.

“South, were you cursed?” York whispered. “You smell like magic.”

“You have an extremely keen nose, York. I've been trying to help her through it; it's the least I can do for failing to stop it.” Siris ran his hand across the top of South’s head. “Just forget you saw anything and go home, alright?”

“But why? Sure, South is a bitch—”

“I'm right here, jackass!”

“— but she's never really did anything wrong that wasn't justified. Who'd want to hurt her?”

“Just go, York.” Siris’s voice was dangerous, but he knew more than he was letting on. “This doesn't involve you

“I'm her best friend, of course it concerns me! Who the fuck are you, even? You haven't told me anything!”

The older man bristled. “ _York_ , please, go back to your farm—”

“Wait, that's it!” South cried suddenly. “The farm! They'd never expect to find me there!”

“South, I'm not sure if—”

“York, can you keep a secret?”

The ranchhand sputtered. “Well, yeah, but— holy shit, South, what the fuck happened to your ears?!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for your support! youre the reason why this keeps going
> 
> soon i'll be putting up a document all about the world building once I update it and remove spoilers. i'll put it on my tumblr and in the end note of the fic
> 
> a surprisingly longer chapter written on my phone in just an hour or so
> 
> has anyone guessed/figured out who the witch and doll are

The witch ground their teeth together, electricity crackling from the motion. “What do you _mean_ , you've lost her?”

“I did not say that,” the doll stated. “I simply said there has been an interference and we no longer have a lock on her aura. The charm was destroyed, and she has disappeared from her home.”

A vase flew past the doll’s ear. “So you _lost_ her, you piece of shit! Christ, why did I even make you? You can't even keep track of a single fucking person! All that magic, that _power_ , gone! All because you couldn't keep your eye on her!”

Temper tantrums of this magnitude were very rare, though it was nothing the doll had not seen before. His creator was a vain being, obsessed with money and power. He had no wants, no emotion to cloud his judgement, and, therefore, was best equipped to handle these moods.

“I did not say that,” he repeated.

The witch looked like they wanted to strangle the life from him. “Then what _did_ you say?” they growled.

“We do not have a lock on her aura because it's being blocked out, but every time she shifts, it creates a disturbance. We've been using that to track her. She is returning home. She's going back to Blood Gulch.”

* * *

“I don't think this is a good idea, South. I still think we’d be better off in the city and covering your aura that way,” Siris complained as the gates of Blood Gulch Canyon Ranch appeared in the distance, a literal beacon in the darkness.

“It'll be fine, old man,” South sniffled, pulling up the hood of her jacket. Her ears had finally stopped stretching out, but now her nose and mouth were turning into a snout, and it was wreaking hell on her sinuses. “Can't you use your magic shit with the energy or whatever around here?”

Siris scowled— as best a bird could scowl, at least. “Shifting magic in a large city? Easy. No one will be able to sense a change. Here? Someone's going to notice the smell.”

“We've got air fresheners in storage,” York muttered to himself.

No one laughed, though he wasn't really expecting them to. It had been a tense few days. Siris forced them to switch buses any time he thought they were being followed, and South’s near constant groaning brought too many curious eyes. They were forced to walk the final mile on foot, taking a winding path through the woods to throw off their scent.

At least South was still mobile. When she'd fallen asleep on the first bus, Siris had explained as much as he could. Someone had cursed South a long time ago and were now trying to reverse it. He didn't need to know why; it was black magic. Someone was using South’s pain to prolong their own life.

“Welcome to casa de la Blood Gulch,” York announced once they reached the front gate. Inside, three silhouettes stood at a distance, huddling close to stay warm in the cold. “Welcome home, South.”

South shouldered past York and sniffled at the welcoming party as they approached. Siris tensed, but said nothing.

The first two figures South already knew: the director’s bratty children, Carolina and Leonard Junior. Carolina had grown huge, her lithe taur body the product of countless hours spent circumventing disasters. Her brother, however, hadn't developed as well as her. The skin not covered by fur was as pale as his father's, love handles peeked over his hips, and a scraggly beard had been growing on his face. If he had been skinnier, however, South would've easily mistaken him for the director, especially with the look on his face.

The third person was new.

And she was beautiful.

South's eyes were glued to her as York exchanged words with them, trying to attempt every little detail to memory. She was short, Latina, with piercing brown eyes and cute brown hair that was shaved into an undercut. Her face looked so young, so soft, but there was no denying that she could easily overpower someone three times her size. And those lips, oh god, those kissable lips—

Church snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Hey! Are you even listening?”

“Uh…”

The woman smiled and laughed— holy shit, South’s heart was pounding in her chest. “My name’s Constance Martinez, but you can call me Connie. I'm the new caretaker for the bovitaurs here. I'll also be taking care of you and your… owl?”

Siris ruffled his feathers and stepped closer to South’s cheek. Connie reached out a hand and scratched his neck, catching him off guard. He seemed to enjoy it, allowing her to continue without snapping at her fingers.

“We don't have any open stalls for you right now,” Carolina piped up. “We recently saved a herd of cervitaurs from a slaughterhouse, and we’ve been having to double board while we build new stalls. You'll have to sleep in the quarantine, with one of the handlers, or you can room with North; I'm sure he'll be happy to know—”

“North won't know _anything_. I don't want a peep getting out about my being here. This is just temporary until I figure out how to fix this mess, then I'm gone.”

“South, North has been incredibly anxious,” said Connie. “It's been affecting the herd, and we have a few pregnancies that are coming to term soon. It hasn't been good on the mothers’ health or the babies. Maybe you can give him a phone call?”

South mulled it over and sighed. “Fine. I'll just… stick to quarantine for now. At least it's too cold for anyone to get randy.”

“You'd be surprised,” York murmured. Carolina snorted and Church groaned.

“Can you guys go flirt somewhere else? Come on, I'll take you to your room, South. If only to get away from these assholes,” Church added, grabbing South's wrist and pulling her away.

“You're just jealous because your girlfriend isn't here to sit on your face!” York called after them, followed by Carolina’s snorting laughter and Connie telling him to apologize.

“You have a girlfriend?” South asked once the noise of the others had faded. “You never really go out and meet anyone, if I remember the last time I was here. You just sit on your computer all day.”

Church’s ears pressed back against his head and his tail twitched, but the digitigrade didn't growl or try to change the subject. “She lives on another farm. She's getting certified to handle centaurs.”

“What's her name? What's she look like? I refuse to believe someone would date your ass until you give me solid proof, to be honest.”

They stopped in front of the quarantine building, a huge, grey, imposing rectangle.  Church scraped his key against the door until it finally made it into the lock, then pulled open the door. Immediately, South’s sense were bombarded by the scent of bodily fluids, stale pheromones, and a shitload of air fresheners. “Her name is Tex, and you'll meet her when she starts in the spring. If you even stay that long.”

Church shoved South into the building. “Just pick a stall and go to sleep. And wash yourself, you smell rancid. Your bird can do whatever, just don't let it shit on the walls, or you're cleaning it up.”

The door banged shut as it slid close, leaving South and Siris alone in the dark.

“Well then,” Siris finally spoke up. “This may be a better solution than I originally thought.”

“And why’s that?”

“This entire place is cursed.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive got a new puppy to take care of, so it might be a while before I'm able to get the next chapter written, and then ill be working on my rvb big bang fic (which was originally supposed to be this haha)
> 
> im very bad at writing these characters

Kai pressed her ear against the cool metal door of the quarantine building, snout twitching softly. There was someone in there, and it definitely wasn't one of the handlers. None of the taurs on the main farm were sick, and it was far too late in the year for anyone to be in a rut.

The cow digitigrade began rapping her knuckles on the door, spelling out Morse code. It was something she had learned as a calf, too young to have her first heat but too old to have any friends her age. She'd used it to communicate with her brother whenever he was quarantined, be it rut or sickness. Maybe the newcomer knew Morse code, too? Maybe they were her age! Tucker was the only other taur on the main farm her age, but a girl needed some variety!

“Helloooo?” Kai called. “I know you're in there! I can hear you!”

“Go away!” a voice replied.

The cow was unfazed by this, of course. In fact, it only served to make her even more excited and begin stomping her hooves in the dirt. “Aha! You can't hide from me forever! Don't you want some company? Let me in!”

“Are you deaf? Didn't you hear what I _just_ said?”

“Uh, yeah, no duh. But you can't fool this nose. I can smell a liar a mile away! Why are you in there?”

“... I'm sick. If you come in here, you'll die. Cough. Cough cough.”

Kai took a step back and sniffed the air. “You're not sick, but you're… definitely something. You want me to get the doc for you?”

The voice groaned loudly. “Go _away_ , kid! Jeez, I wanna strangle you.”

“Hot,” Kai muttered under her breath. “And I'm not leaving until I'm entertained. Or horny. Either or.”

“Are you always this insufferable.”

“I don't know the meaning of the word! ...I've actually never heard that word.”

 _Sigh_. “If I talk to you, will you leave me alone?”

Kai squealed and plopped herself in front of the door. “Yup! My name's Kai, by the way! Kaikaina Grif, cutest cow girl you'll ever see! Most people just call me Sister, though.”

“Wait. Kaikaina Grif? Dexter’s little sister?”

Her ears perked up. “You know my bro? Have you been here before?”

“... Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course!” Absolutely not. No secret was safe with her. “You can trust me!” She really shouldn't.

The woman behind the door, at least, was wary enough not to trust her completely. “I used to live here. Sort of. It's complicated. I moved away after I was born, but I visited a lot. And now I'm here again.”

That… didn't really make much sense, but she wasn't lying. The two women spoke for a couple more hours, at Kai’s insistence, but it wasn't until the conversation was long over that she realized she'd never gotten a name.

* * *

 “I was _just_ at the hospital,” South huffed, crossing her arms. “Why do I need a check up?”

The medic, Doc or whatever the fuck he was called, gave her an almost condescending smile. “Well, Ms. Church said we can't contact the hospitals for your medical records, so we gotta make our own! **So we can discover your every weakness and use them to control you!** No, Omega, we talked about this! You can't blackmail people into helping you with world domination!”

Doc launched into an argument with his other half, going on for the better part of five minutes. South’s snout twitched irritably as she turned to Siris and whispered, “Are you sure you can't exorcise this guy?”

“He's already been exorcised, like he said, but not very well,” the owl yawned, climbing into South’s lap. “Omega is a powerful wrath demon; trying to force it out is asking for trouble. The best you can do is bind it to something before exorcism, lest it cause severe brain damage or trauma.”

“The talking owl is right!” Doc piped up, having finished his argument. “It was pretty hectic before we could stop him; killed a lot of the cervitaurs, and left Caboose with really bad brain damage! He's bound to me now, and not very powerful.”

She raised her brow. “You seem pretty happy for a man possessed by the embodiment of someone's rage.”

“Oh, not just anyone's rage, it's Church’s! _Loooong_ story, but pretty funny, if you don't mind listening for like, six hours. Anyways, Omega and I are pretty cool; I've been helping him with his anger issues.”

South really didn't want to know who she meant, Church or Omega, but Doc looked ready to jump into another tangent. Before he could, thank fuck, the actual witch doctor entered the quarantine. She was built like a beanpole on steroids— no doubt wrestling taurs twice her size  for half her life gave her a crazy workout. She looked incredibly young, her age betrayed only by her graying black hair and crow’s feet. She looked incredibly familiar.

The witch doctor stopped in front of her and gave her a once over. “Huh. You look incredibly familiar. Have we met before?”

“I'm not sure. I've met a lot of doctors in my life,” said South.

“Well, Miss… Dakota! I'm Dr.Grey. Maybe Siris here told you about me?” she added with a wink at the owl, who beamed back at her.

“Never could keep a secret from you, Emily,” he laughed. “Is Meg alright?”

“Just dandy! She and the kids are getting ready to move to the farm; a little difficult doing it without attention, but she's a smart cookie.”

The owl and witch continued chattering while Grey began her examination of South, interrupting herself to tell Doc what to write down and asking her questions. She learned a lot about the two of them in that short time; Siris had a wife and two twins, only three years old, and Dr. Grey was banned from working in the capitals because of an accident during her residency.

“So, the snout is brand new?” Grey asked, measuring it with a roll of tape. “Have you begun experiencing hypersensitivity from smell?”

“No— am I supposed to? It that normal?”

“For Dakota digitigrades, definitely!” Doc replied. Grey, satisfied with measurements, fiddled with a strange tool and stuck it in her nostrils, shining a small light. “It's rare for a Dakota to be born with only two legs, but they always transform into taurs during puberty.”

South gawked at him. “How the fuck do you know this?”

“The Dakotas kept meticulous records, and their handlers continued that tradition,” said Grey. “We have an entire shelf in the library dedicated to the information on them.”

Right, the library. The one in the mansion that looked straight out of a horror movie. “I suppose Dr. Church wouldn’t mind if Siris and I took a look at the records?”

“You’d have to ask Carolina, but I’m sure she’d be fine.” Grey snapped the light off and cleaned the tool. “Well, everything looks to be in order. I’ll take a lock hair so I can study the properties of the magic on you. Is that alright?” South nodded, eyes unfocused as Grey cut off a small piece of hair.

“You never told me you had a family,” she said after the doctors had left.

Siris shook his feathers out. “The less you know about me, the better. Besides, you know I can’t say much in the first place.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re cursed too, or whatever. Let’s just get into the library and see what we can find.”

“It may not be very enlightening, South. They’ve been around for over 200 years, and many people have looked through them. I doubt you will find anything that can access the loophole of my curse.”

“I know. But I have to try… I made a promise.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://leonerdchurch.tumblr.com/post/149113601763/orangekissess-doodles for reference this is what a digi like Kai would look like

If there was one nice thing to be said about the Church family, it was that they kept some damn meticulous records. When Doc had said there was an entire shelf dedicated to her family and their history, he'd meant there was an entire wall filled with musty old documents that would take hours to comb through. Thankfully, Carolina had gathered the handlers that had been part of the welcoming party to help them out, and Church had helped them search for relevant files using his partially completed database. Siris had gone off to do something else, muttering something about curses and sources.

It was, quite possibly, the most boring five hours of South’s life.

The group was holed up in the corner of the mansion’s giant library, surrounded by piles of documents and folders. Carolina was curled up under York, her purring gating South’s nerves to hell and back. Church was spread out under a window, resting on top a file he'd gone through once and then promptly given up on in favor of sunbathing. South and Connie took up the only two seats in that corner of the room, giving South plenty of chances to sneak glances at the beautiful human.

The only ones actually doing any work, it seemed, were York and Connie. At some point, Carolina had wrapped herself around her boyfriend and fallen prey to sleep, as had Church, and South couldn't concentrate long enough on the words in front of her to process them. The growing pain in her feet didn't help her focus much, either.

“There's a lot of stuff you can't find in the history books here,” York remarked, mpetting Carolina behind her ears. “Did you know the Dakotas were the first people to build a farm for taurs?”

“They used the taurs to do slave work and move drugs and smuggled goods,” Connie added. “It was before taurs had any rights or natural citizenship, so they'd trick them into indentured servitude.”

“You, uh, really know your history,” said South.

Connie smiled at her, and she nearly melted. “I like to read nonfiction. I've been pushing Church to digitize the archives so I don't have to sneak in here at night. Sarge gets a little trigger happy, but you can't teach an old dog new tricks.” York snorted at the comment, jostling Carolina and earning a small growl before she settled.

“The fuck’s up with those two? Shouldn't they be helping out?”

“They need to rest.” York frowned at the floor. “They've been under a lot of stress lately. Not only that, but they've been having nightmares, apparently. Only at night, though.”

“Maybe it's that curse you mentioned earlier, South,” said Connie, picking up a new folder. “If what your mysterious friend said is true, then the curse is large enough to cover a large part of the farm, if not all of it. There's been a lot of stuff happening around here— it started small, but it's been escalating pretty fast. Even I've noticed, and I haven't been here long.”

“I found something interesting.” York handed the folder over to Connie. “It's an old journal talking about how the family was cursed— specifically about a digitigrade getting angry at them.”

“A digi? The Dakotas were cursed over two hundred years ago, they didn't really exist back then.”

“They did, but there was only one that actually lived long enough to make it to a farm. All it says is that he was a cat, and he had one hell of a temper.”

“Do you think he has family?” South questioned. “Any magical descendants?”

“It doesn't say anything about a name,” Connie said. “Besides, if the digi this journal is talking about is the witch who cursed your family, there wouldn't be any way to track his descendants. His existence would've been kept completely out of any family records. Humanoid-taur relationships weren't very acceptable back then.”

South sighed through her snout. “Let's just call it quits for now. I need to take some painkillers.”

The two ranch hands shared a worried look. “You said your feet were hurting; maybe it's another change? It's been a few days since your snout finished, uh, doing whatever. Want us to carry you back?”

“I'll be fine,” South said, forcing herself to stand up. Besides, her gay heart might explode if Connie had her hands on her. “I just need sleep.”

York nodded, though the doubt showed on his face. “Alright then. Stay out of sight, and remember to wake up early tomorrow; we need to get you some new clothes.”

There was probably some joke about her breasts or weight and genes that followed, knowing York, but South was already gone, jogging straight towards the quarantine. It wasn't that she wanted to hide or anything… Okay, well, yes, she wanted to hide, but not because she was ashamed. She just wanted to hide from herself for a little bit, forget who and what she was. Maybe she could convince Church to install a tv in her stall so she and Siris could catch up on their shows—

“Ugh, finally! I thought you'd never get back!” Kai jumped up from South’s bed, wearing only a pair of frilly yellow underwear. “I've been waiting _for-ev-er_. How can you stand it in here? It smells so much like— Southie?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to thepheonixqueen and grif-exe @ tumblr
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: vague mentions of cannibalism and murder. The next chapters will be based around minor characters being introduced, but things will only get worse. Thank thepheonixqueen for that. I will add a skippable summary later/tomorrow, just in case.

The screen flickered to life, its display showing a wavelength and a box beside it to transcript the audio. The witch leaned back in their chair, swirling a glass of whiskey idly. “Goooood morning, Control! And how are you this lovely morning?”

“I think we both know the purpose of this call,” the filtered voice replied tersely.

The witch hummed. “Oh yeah, I sure do. Your little team of elite mercenaries couldn’t do their jobs right, and the school of little mers killed themselves in order to prevent themselves from being captured. Ooor, their incompetent asses couldn’t keep from maiming whatever they could catch, and now you don’t have what you wanted, so you come crawling to me for help. Really, senator, it’s getting pretty old.”

“Don’t forget that I’m the one allowing you to reside where you are,” Control growled. “ _I’m_ the one paying you, and a great deal at that. I’ll double your paycheck—”

“Quadruple.”

“ _Triple._ With a bonus for each job done right and discreetly.”

“Deal. I’m listening, go on.”

“If you provide me with the main ingredient for the potion, along with a few extra things.”

“Immortality isn’t all that great, y’know,” said the witch in a teasing tone. “Sure, eternal youth, great power, get as much tail as you like… But there’s a reason this recipe has never seen the light of day, senator. Do you know why?”

“... No. I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t. I didn’t either, when I got my grubby little paws on it. I mean, it tastes absolutely disgusting— have you ever tried eating a mer boiled alive? You can hear it screaming with each bite, _literally_. Almost couldn’t finish it myself. But that’s not the point. Do you remember my companion?”

“The doll? I can’t forget him.”

The witch nodded and sipped their whiskey. “An absolute wonder of magic and science; half human, half marionette. However, a doll must be created from the parts of the recently deceased— one whose soul is still in its body.”

“I don’t see the point you’re getting at here. I am not aiming to create a doll just yet.”

“Patience, Control. See, the soul is what gives us our free will, if you believe in that mumbo jumbo. Without your soul, you are dead. If your soul can’t move on, however…”

“... It rots.”

They snapped their fingers. “It rots! A doll can survive without its soul because it’s a shell stuck in time— you bottle that shit right up, seal it airtight, and the soul tricks itself into thinking it’s still alive. Keep a soul bound where magic can flow through it, however, the soul rots. And when a soul rots, it needs energy to keep itself going, specifically negative energy, and it needs more and more the older you get. I mean, not that it’ll be hard to get that for yourself; you seem to get off on the shit already, from the looks of your trophy room. _Fucked_ up, man!”

Control sighed. “So what you’re saying is…?”

“What I’m saying _is_ that it’s gonna take a lot of time and energy to get you what you want, with how much my own soul has rotted. I _had_ a source, but she’s… out of my reach right now. It’s a long story, features a very beautiful woman and a few sacrifices ’n’ whatnot, you know how it is. If you want me to find you a mer, much less a pureblood, and capture it safely, it’s going to take a _long_ time. Five, six years, and that’s just a generous estimate.”

“I don’t want you to find a mer; I want you to create one. I have loose ends I need tying.”

“Oh, no need to be coy with me, senator! I am _all_ ears.”

“The man I once called my son went against everything I taught him and eloped with a Blood Gulch taur— the brother of the girl who blinded him, no less. To this day, the papers try to use him against me in a smear campaign, and I can’t have that if I’m to run again. I want you to turn him into a mer and use him in the potion, then bring his husband to me. If there are any other connections, lovers or family, I want them too.”

The witch whistled low. “Holy shit. I knew you were messed up, but this? Eating your own son? That’s just straight _fucked_.”

“If you won’t do it—”

“Oh no, I’ll do it, but you have to give me something return. For me to reach your son, you’re gonna need to get my doll onto the farm, and you have to let me siphon his energy.”

“Fine. Just do what I asked.”

“With pleasure, Senator Hargrove.”

* * *

In movies, when something super dramatic happens, things go into slow mo. The main character seems to process every little detail, from the way the wind blows to dust on the floor. It was for effect, to show how the adrenaline was slowing things down, how the brain was trying to process what was happening.

This was not a movie, however, South's brain could not process 300 plus pounds of cow girl tackling her to the ground like a runaway freight train and babbling incomprehensibly through choked sobs. “Oh, gods, Southie, we've all been so worried! You never call, and then your card never came, a-and York left to find you, and North’s literally worried himself sick, so now Grif is with all the calves, and, and, and—”

“Hey, shh, calm down!” South hissed. “I’m trying to lie low here!”

Kai sniffled and nodded, pressing her snout against the other’s chest. “Y- your boobs are really soft… What kind of bra are you using?”

“A sports bra? I dunno. Now, can you please tell me what’s going on? What were you saying about North?”

“E-everyone’s been really stressed out lately, especially North. We have no idea what’s come over him— he’s almost completely hysterical. We can’t get him to even speak; he’s gone full taur.”

South tensed. Had she really worried her brother to the point he couldn’t act human? Jeez, she must’ve really fucked up. “Look, Kai… I’m not supposed to be here. Not really. There’s something bad going on, and I’m trying to figure out. Do you think you can help me out?”

The cow girl looked up her with wide, shiny eyes. “Of course! Anything to make things a _little_ normal again— everyone’s way too sad to want to make out, even Tucker, of all taurs.”

“Can you not think about sex for one second—?”

“Nope.”

“Ugh. Just… can you get me a cellphone? I have an idea on how to make North feel better.”

* * *

“North?” Kai knocked on the stall door, holding a cell against her chest. “I have something for you. Can I come in?”

Huff. Snort.

“I’ll, uh, take that as a yes. I’m not sure where Connie or the other humans are, so don’t attack me, okay? I know you didn’t mean to hurt Church, though, that guy had it coming— who the hell tries to dig their claws into someone to calm them down?”

Moooo.

“Right, sorry. Coming in.” The cow girl cracked the door open and slipped inside before locking it behind her. North lay on a giant mattress, spread out on his side beneath a crochet blanket. His ears swiveled towards her when she entered, but, besides that, he was almost completely still. “Hey, handsome. Looking good. Did Connie give you a brush today? You missed out on the big one they just had installed— it can brush two taurs at once!”

_Snort._

“Well excuse me for trying to make conversation! When did you get so sassy.” She shook her head and set the cellphone beside his. “Anyways, I’ve got a surprise for you, old man.”

“ _Hey, North. I heard you weren’t feeling well?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The witch and Senator Hargrove discuss how to make an immortality potion and the effects of immortality/keeping a soul bound to the earth after its body has passed.
> 
> A mer (of any descent, even through transformation) must be boiled and eaten alive with the potion to create an immortal and give them eternal youth. They cannot have internal organ damage to their lower half in order for the potion to work. However, mers are endangered and hide themselves from humans, and would rather commit suicide than be used for potions. The witch says it will take years to even find a mer for the potion, but Hargrove wants to use a transformed York to make things easier. It will still take a few years for the spell to be cast, but it'll be far easier than having to spend time and money on finding another specimen.
> 
> (Sharkface and the insurrectionists were caught by Hargrove's mercenaries, but most of them managed to kill themselves. Sharkface was unable to kill himself, but managed to throw himself into a fire that had started on the boat, rendering himself useless for the potion. He will show up on the farm later as a rescue, but he may not make a major appearance.)
> 
> To explain immortality, the witch makes a comparison to dolls, half human, half marionette beings created from the recently dead by sealing their souls in an airtight bottle. If a soul is left in the open, where magic flows through it, it begins to rot and must siphon energy (negative energy being the most powerful) to stay alive.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [strums guitar] I LIED
> 
> minor characters will probably be seen in any sidefics. i've developed them quite a lot, but most of the characters i have written down won't make an appearance in the main fic the way it's currently going.

A full week after South’s arrival, Dr. Leonard Church, Sr. was coming home.

The entire farm was bursting with energy, even the taurs with their own plots of land for their families, who rarely came up to the main farm. A huge part waited at the gates as the van drove up, cheering when the doctor stepped out and waved. South watched from the library window, face pressed against the glass as she watched everyone celebrate. She didn’t know the Director too well, outside of what she’d been taught in school: possibly the most powerful advocate for taur rights, lead great strides in the studies of taur reproduction, blah blah blah. South never really cared for taur stuff in school; she could always learn the real thing from her family, if she ever wanted to.

Church Junior was the only person who’d stayed behind with South and Siris, tapping away at his laptop. He’d claimed he was digitizing the records, but the smile that crossed his face told her that he was slacking off at least a little bit. Siris himself was seated in the far corner, looking over the files they had pulled out for him without a peep.

South watched as the doctor was herded through the, well, herd, stopping once every so often to hug someone. He was coming to the library to speak with her and discuss plans and whatnot; she was too tired to listen to Carolina talk down to her at the time. It took five minutes for the Director to finally break through the crowd and reach the house, and another two before he entered the library, flanked by Carolina.

Christ, he’d gotten old. His once gleaming black hair was now dull and lined with grey and bright green eyes were weighed down by dark bags. He still held himself like a military officer, back straight, but anyone could see the weariness in his pose, like he was trying to keep from falling over every second he stood. Even his grey jacket and gloves made him look tired. It made South feel a little sorry for the old man, just recovering from a heart attack and being forced to deal with the newest catastrophe straight after.

If it bothered him, however, he didn’t show it. As soon as they locked eyes, the Director smiled brightly at South. “South! I wasn’t expecting you to be here. Where’s Reggie?”

The room grew tense. Carolina placed a hand on her father’s shoulder and whispered, “Wyoming passed away six years ago, director. You attended the funeral, remember?”

The doctor looked confused for a good minute before realization crossed his face. “Oh, right. I… Ahem. What brings you here, South?”

“... I thought it’d be pretty obvious,” said South, looking between Carolina and Church for an explanation.

“Dad’s memory has been going bad,” Church said. “They think it might be dementia, but we aren’t sure. Just try to be gentle with him and be prepared to explain yourself a few times. If we’re lucky, he’ll actually remember this conversation.”

While Church had been talking, Carolina filled in Dr. Church on the situation so South wouldn’t have to explain herself all over again. Something seemed to click in his brain, bringing him into a moment of lucidity. The shift was almost immediate, going from confused father to an intense scientist. “Transformation magic of that caliber was destroyed before I was born. It’s black magic; we could get in trouble simply for harboring South.”

“You aren’t suggesting we throw her back to the wolves? The government would kill to get their hands on her. The only reason they didn’t experiment on her the first time was because you said there was no magic involved.”

“And there wasn’t. South’s birth was completely natural, despite being premature; we couldn’t find any magical signatures.”

“That’s because he knows how to cover his tracks,” said Siris, not looking up from the file he’d been on for the past few minutes. “Nice to finally meet you, sir.”

Dr. Church jumped, apparently unaware of Siris’s presence, though she didn’t blame him. The fucker could blend in easily if he wanted to. “You… you’re Siris? The informant?”

He nodded. “Yessir. I’m sure you’ll forgive me for encrypting my messages.”

“It was a necessary precaution. I’m surprised you were even able to send anything, with what I’ve heard about your own curse.”

“You know a lot, sir. Makes it a lot easier on me.”

“Alright, can someone please tell me what the fuck he’s talking about?” South growled. “I know about the curse or whatever it is, but nobody’s told me jack shit about it other than ‘ _ oh, I can’t say anything if you don’t already know! _ ’”

The Director smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I don’t know the origins, but Siris was cursed by a silencing spell. He can only reveal information if the person he’s speaking to knows exactly what he means. It’s used by black market traders to keep their employees from giving out sensitive information.”

“I don’t really understand. Siris has told me plenty of stuff.”

“It’s because you knew it beforehand, or had a strong inkling,” Carolina said, crossing her arms. “And your curse, or whatever this is, was cast by the same person who bound Siris. The magic in him recognized you, giving you access to things he’d otherwise not even be able to hint at.”

South made a face. “I… I think I get it. Fuck, I’m tired of magic.”

“You and me both,” Siris chuckled. “Now, Dr. Church, you want to explain the situation with your arm?”

Leonard grabbed his left arm and glared at Siris. “This isn’t the place for this.”

“It’s an important detail, doctor—”

“It’s not  _ relevant _ to the situation!”

The room went quiet at the old man’s outburst. Even Church had stilled, finally moving his focus from his laptop to the conversation. Carolina stepped forward, brows furrowed. “Dad? What’s going on? What’s wrong with your arm?”

“She deserves to know, doctor. We need all the clues we can get,” Siris whispered.

Leonard sighed and muttered something under his breath. Hesitantly, he pulled off his glove and raised the sleeve of his jacket. “It happened just before my heart attack. There was a shock of energy from two different— my body couldn’t take the strain, and my heart gave out.”

“Is that… fur?” Carolina whispered, reaching out to touch it. The director flinched, but let her run her hand along it.

It definitely was fur, South thought; anyone could see that. Dull yellow with greying black spots, claws, pads on the palm of his hand… someone had a sense of humor.

Church swallowed audibly, fur standing straight up. “Someone…” his voice cracked and he coughed. “Someone tried to transform you?”

The doctor nodded. “I think so...”

“He’s losing lucidity,” Siris muttered. “I cast a spell to help him, but there’s little we can do for memory degradation.”

“C- Come on, sir. You need to rest.” Carolina maneuvered Dr. Church by the waist, careful to avoid his left arm.

The three of them waited until they could no longer hear the padding of footsteps to speak, and then a moment longer. It was Church who broke the silence.

“This is fucking  _ bullshit _ .”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a segue chapter

[BITCHINBLACK has signed in.]

BIB: guess who’s on the bus looser

[DONTCALLMECHURCH has set their status from Do Not Disturb to Online]

DCC: not autocorrect, that’s for sure.

BIB: ugh do you ever chill. tour girlfriend is moving in with you!!!!!!!!

DCC: you mean crawling from hell to torture me

DCC: thanks, but I’ve already got one demon to deal with

BIB: :(

DCC: oh no

BIB: :((

DCC: i can feel the puppy eyes through the screen. this is abuse of power

BIB: :((((((((((((

DCC: i can’t believe this. this horrible demon is manipulating me for her own gains and i’m falling for it completely.

BIB: :))))))))))

DCC: <3

DCC: your bus was supposed to get here an hour ago, it’s fucking freezing out here. where are you?

BIB: almost got kicked of the buss bc i tried to sneak corne on

DCC: …

DCC: what did you do, tex.

BIB: iiiiii may have stuffed him into my suitcase

DCC: I

DCC: I don’t know what to say

DCC: you. tried to stuff a full grown man into your suitcase.

DCC: and thought it would work?

DCC: i thought demons were supposed to be intelligent

BIB: that’s *half demon* , ass whole

BIB: we didn’t have any money and we couldn’t reach the farm. locus’s guys were closing in

DCC:the doll? jeez. you could’ve done a better job at least. did you shake them off?

BIB: not sure; his master gave them all cloaking spells. cant tell where they are at all

DCC: well, a new situation arose. we’ve got another cursed on the farm, and lina thinks it might be related to cornelius

DCC: holy fuck, that is a ridiculous name. did his parents hate him?

BIB: THIS ISS CT FUK U

BIB: haha hes looking over my shoulder

BIB: anyways, who we talking about?

DCC: South Dakota, she was born here. the director never was able to figure out what was going on. magic doesn’t run in our families apparently

BIB: the human girl? whats up with her?

DCC: turning into a taur it seems. faster than anything we have on record too

DCC: faster than corny there for sure. dad’s contact says she’ll be turning full taur in two weeks at the latest, and not just in the mental way

BIB: gods below……..

BIB: we’re approaching the bus stop now im gonna walk on foot like u suggested

DCC: okay. i guess this is goodbye for now?

BIB: drama queen. and don’t say that, you know i don’t like it

BIB: i’m never going to leave you, Junior.

DCC: fuck you bitch

BIB: love you, kitty. stsy safe

BIB: <3

[BITCHINBLACK has logged off.]

DCC: love you too


	12. Chapter 12

“You sound a lot better, North.” The bull smiled, playing with Carolina’s paws as she laid belly up before him, purring happily with her eyes closed. “Were you really that worried about me?”

North gave Carolina’s paws a squeeze, claws pushing out ever so slightly. “Of course. I haven’t heard from you outside of your cards for years, sissy. I miss you. You didn’t even come to my wedding.”

From the other end, South shifted uncomfortably and hissed something he couldn’t make out. “I wanted to come, I really did, but it was a hard time in my life. I mean, Papa Reggie’s funeral was the day after your wedding, and I didn’t have any money for the bus — ” 

“South, it’s fine. I understand. I was just venting, I didn’t mean to guilt you.” Carolina chirped when North shifted to hold the phone with his other hand, no longer receiving attention. “York visited you, right? He was gone for a while.”

“Uh, yeah. What was that noise?”

Carolina chirped louder, wiggling closer to her boyfriend. “It’s Carolina. She’s nesting, and York is working, so it’s my turn to watch her.”

“She’s pregnant? I just thought she looked fat! Ha!”

North pressed his eyebrows together. “What do you mean? You haven’t seen Carolina in years.”

The younger twin spluttered. “I- I mean — York! York showed me pictures, and in the recent ones Carolina looked fat. I didn’t think she was pregnant.”

“I’m  _ not _ fat,” Carolina growled, rolling onto her back to knead angrily at a pile of pillows. “I still fit my clothes…”

South cackled as North tried to calm Carolina with platitudes. “Her fucking stomach drags on the floor! What in the gods’ names did you put in her, a horse? Holy shit!”

Carolina roared angrily over South’s laughter, almost drowning out the cry of pain that echoed from the other side when it cut off suddenly. North was already on alert, getting to his feet. “Southie? What was that? Are you okay?”

“I- I’m  _ fine _ , North,” she grunted. “Just,  _ augh _ , having some leg— augh! What the fuck is going on? Siris!”

The line went dead after that, filling North with dread. Carolina got to her own feet, looking disturbed. “I… I need to check on something. I’ll be back soon. Can you go check on the director?”

The bull nodded, watching his lover stalk out of the room. Something about this rubbed him the wrong way. Something was being kept secret from him, and he didn’t like it.

* * *

There was someone screaming in quarantine.  North pushed through the crowd that had gathered around, breaking through the front just in time to see Church stumble out of the front entrance and keel over, puking out his guts.

Several Cabooses blocked the front entrance from, the girls flanked by their only brother, Michael. There was a disgusting smell coming from inside the building, the rotten stench of black magic so strong that even someone with no way to sense normal magic could smell it.

“Church!” North cried. “What's going on?! Where's Carolina and York?”

Church lifted his head, a look of horror crossing his face. “Caboose, don't let him in! No matter what!”

Michael, just as confused North was, stepped in front of him. “I’m sorry, Mister Milker, but Church says you can't come in. I do not know why, no one will tell us anything, but Church is always right because he’s the bestest friend ever.” He nodded as though it made perfect sense, but even he looked confused by his own words after a minute.

From inside the barn, a woman’s scream resounded, crescendoing into a pained moo. North’s hair raised and he pushed against the line of Cabooses. “That’s a cow! That’s one of my herd! What the hell is going on in there!?”

“Mister Milker, please! I’m sure she’s alright!”

The crowd was beginning to get restless, the bovitaurs especially. They began pushing to see inside the quarantine, forcing the Cabooses’ attention away from North and allowing him to slip between two of them. Both Michael and Church cried out, but neither were able to catch him in time to prevent him from entering the quarantine.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. Not just the smell of black magic, but of burning grass and what could only be described as rotting flesh. It almost made him keel over, and he would have, if not for the screams coming from the end of the hall. North covered his nose and mouth and moved on, ignoring the sounds of Church vomitting and crying for him to stop at the entrance.

North pressed his shoulder against the only lit stall door, feeling light headed, the world spinning. There was something weird going on with him, like his skin was crawling, but he ignored it. He had to know what was going on. He forced the door open to a cacophony of voices.

“What the hell? North? Who the fuck let him in?!”

“Just keep breathing, the pain will pass. Just close your eyes and listen to the sound of my voice.”

“Siris, we’ve got a problem!”

“North, please, you can’t be in here! Leave this to the handlers!”

“Baby, come on, you’ve gotta go, we got this, okay? She’s gonna be alright, I promise.”

“I— hrk— I tried to stop him, but he slipped through and— oh gods, that’s disgusting…”

“My legs, what’s going on with my legs?” a small voice whimpered from the bed. Despite the noise around him, the hands grabbing his arms and trying to pull him away, it was the loudest of them all. “Siris, it hurts. It burns. What’s going on?”

The fear that had been pooling in North’s stomachs caught fire. That was South, his sister, his twin, lying on the bed. Covered in black magic, in a stench so foul it hid her real scent. Her legs were twisting at unnatural angles, strawberry blonde growing from them, and her feet cracking and reforming into hooves before his very eyes. And the man next to her… no, it wasn’t a man. It wasn’t human, not even close to being alive. It was a being of dark magic that smelled like a forest fire.

_ The world goes red. Momma is screaming, calling papa’s name. Jerry. Jerry. Jerry. The firefighters are trying desperately to put out the flames, but they are unnatural; they will not die. North is clinging to his mother’s leg when he sees it: a man, hidden in the woods just beyond their home, clutching his left leg. There’s a log on him, a giant one that slowly being consumed by flames, and the man is desperately reaching for an axe that North’s father had left stuck in a tree nearby. _

_ Despite his better judgement, North gallops to the stranger and pulls the axe from the tree. He may have been young, but he was a Dakota, and Dakotas were always the strongest cows on the continent, Dr. Church had said. The calf attempted to hand the axe over to the stranger, but he refused. “If I try to do it from this angle, it won’t be a clean cut. Do you have a parent, an adult who can help?” The man is incredibly calm for someone discussing amputating their own leg. _

_ North refuses, saying that he could do it himself. The guards were scattered searching for the arsonists, and they wouldn't make it in time to save the human, whoever he was. But, as he lifts the axe and swings downward, something surges through him. A fire not unlike the one burning down his home, and quite possibly father, rages through him. With every yell, every swing, every pained scream the human makes, North can see his sister’s face the day they took her away, kicking and screaming and crying and bleeding and bleeding and bleeding there's so much blood now, why is South so bloody? _

_ North only returns to consciousness when his father, completely unharmed and scared shitless, grabs the bloody axe away from him. The man is no longer there, but he still remembers his face, the look of fear after the first axe swing. _

And he wore that face now as North roared and tackled him to the ground, hands tight around his neck. The people in the room are screaming, grabbing at him, and he kicks, knocking someone back. York screams Carolina’s name, everyone else is screaming North’s, South is limp on the bed, staring at her brother with glassy eyes, and he can only see red.

He feels something puncture his flank and he roars, turning towards his attacker. Dr. Grey spins into view, she and her triplets, a tranq gun aimed at his chest. She doesn't need to aim again; he goes down immediately, the world turning black soon after.

* * *

 

Two guards watch the scene unfold from afar, one turning on his radio. “Sir, the first part of the transformation has finished. Do we go we switch to phase two, over.”

“Negative, soldier,” Locus’s voice crackles from the speaker. “We stay on schedule. The mark will be arriving soon, over and out.”

“Roger that. Over and out.” The guard clicked his radio off with a sigh. “Man, fuck this place. I'm getting some bad fuckin’ vibes.”

“Shut up, dude, you're fine. Now get to the clinic and see what's up with the queen bitch.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler again, as an apology sort of for taking so long. I'll be writing a prequel for the rvb Big Bang but I doubt I'll stick with it since it's almost completely OCs

_From the journal of Mason “Siris” Wu. To a normal person, the text is completely illegible and leaves the reader with a headache if they attempt to decipher it. Those with some knowledge of Siris’s situation can make out some passages, but not many. Only two people besides the author can read every word._

_The latest entry is written in a frantic scrawl, with many words abbreviated._

I made a mistake. About twenty years ago, I infiltrated the ranch to destroy a jar containing a soul that Felix had hidden. It was the wrong one. Of all the knowledge Felix cursed me with, I question what is true and what he decided to leave out.

In his immortal life, Felix has only bottled three souls. The first is Locus, the doll. He was the lover of a man— or perhaps a digitigrade taur? Felix’s memories are fuzzier in my mind— named Isaac. He was tortured by a woman named Charlotte Dakota, the second soul, who crippled him and attempted to cut out his eyes.

For years, I'd thought that Charlotte was still trapped beneath the Blood Gulch mansion, and Felix had been using it as a source of energy. It was beginning to wane, so he planned to force it into another’s body to re-energize it. I set a fire on the farm and snuck down into the basement, then destroyed the jar.

The soul that was released, however, was far stronger than Charlotte's. Too strong. It couldn't pass on, so it clung desperately to the farm. It was as good as new, so it would take years to rotten, and, at the time, I was too naïve to realize the difference.

As it turns out, the jar contained the third soul. Allison Church, wife of Dr. Leonard Church, who disappeared mysteriously during the massacre. In a fit of rage, she possessed a young bovitaur and had him chop off my leg, but I managed to escape otherwise unscathed.

I was completely unaware of South’s existence until a few months ago. I was spying on one of Felix's indentured moles when I discovered my mistake. I tried to protect her and I failed. Just like the first time.

She's in the clinic’s emergency room now, in a medically induced coma or something. I don't know. I didn't check on her. But I do know that the next year will be terribly painful, and it will be all my fault.

Megan is going to watch her for me. Hargrove has been pushing to get her kind onto farms, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem.

South, if you read this, know that I love you dearly. I'm leaving this with your things on the off chance you can someday break through the spell, or if Felix and Locus find me.

I've left to find Felix. If I can kill him, or at least find his grimoire, you can finally fulfill that promise you made to your brother long ago. I can save Dr. Church and his family.

I'm sorry,

Siris


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was kicking my ass until now. Although I had originally planned for some description of the body changing, I decided against it for simplicity's sake. Charlotte is a character from Felix's past who will (hopefully) come up in another fic in the series.

Four children. Quadruplets. Carolina would have felt as blessed as the priestesses said she should — the Divine Mother had blessed her with fertility as a gift for finding two mates— if not for the fact they’d been born too early.

North’s kick had sent her flying into the wall, leaving her with a minor concussion when she felt her water break. She was barely conscious when a Caboose had dragged her to the hospital ward, and the entire process was a blur of pain and tears. Of the four, two were incredibly healthy; two cow taurs, a boy and a girl, fur white as snow and little strawberry blonde spots on their rumps. The other two were cheetah boys, just like their mother. One was a digi and the other a taur, a tiny little runt. 

Carolina and York had fought over names, but North had sided with Carolina in the end; she was the one carrying the children, after all. The calves were named Ella and Isaiah; the cubs named Theodore and Dell. It wasn’t what she called them, though; her little brother had started the tradition of using the Greek alphabet as nicknames, and it seemed fitting to continue it. Ella was Eta, Isaiah Iota, Dell Delta, and little Theodore Theta.

North had missed the birth by a mile. Grey wouldn’t let anyone see him until he’d proven he hadn’t gone full taur, and even then kept him under watch for a few days. He constantly asked about his lovers, seemingly having forgotten about his sister. Once he was released, he charged towards the nursery, knocking over several nurses. He cried and sobbed over his children, whimpering incomprehensible apologies and compliments as they crawled around and made noises.

Upon hearing that Theta was a runt, he demanded to hold the cub. Dr. Grey fought him on it, saying the little one had to remain in his incubator for his health and that they’d lost too many of the abnormal amount of runts that had been birthed on the ranch in the recent years. They compromised, at least, and North was allowed to hold him in the rare moments the child was allowed out of his container.

Rumors about the mysterious screaming and magic emanating from the quarantine came and went. A new handler, digi centaur, and family of digi sheep joined the ranch. The good senator Hargrove pushed his agenda and forced even more nonhumans onto the already overflowing and overtaxed ranches. Felix looked elsewhere for power to fuel his eternal life, Siris watched his servants from the shadows, and Locus slowly chipped away at the barrier surrounding the canyon ranch.

And all the while, South dreamt as her body changed.

* * *

“You’ll be waking up soon,” the cheetah taur, Allison, whispered, stroking Charlotte’s hair. “Are you almost ready?”

“I don’t want to leave,” Charlotte whispered. “I don’t want to be a… a filthy beast. I just want to move on.”

Allison sighed. The once-heiress still had prejudice rooted deep inside her, but at least she was trying to move past it. “I do too, Charlie— you’re lucky enough to experience life again, to not have to… to fucking  _ destroy _ the people you love just to keep going on.”

The human sat up, rubbing the tears from her cheeks and pushing white blonde hair out of her face. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s been centuries; I’m lucky I’m not just a shell.” Charlotte leaned back against Allison. “Never thought I’d become friends with an alley cat.”

“Excuse me? That alley  _ cheetah _ , thank you very much,” she said with a grin. “I take great pride in my heritage.”

The two shared a laugh, then silence permeated the darkness all around them.

“You don’t have to kill Felix, you know,” Allison whispered. Charlotte scowled. “All you have to do is steal his grimoire, and then you can reverse his spell. Nobody else will have to suffer.”

“I don’t care. Felix is going to pay for what he did to me— to my  _ family _ . I may have deserved a painful death, but  _ this _ … This was just cruel and unusual.”

“But do you have to drag South into this?”

“It’s the only way I can get to him.” She paused, trying to hold back tears. “She’s waking up. I don’t want to be her again. I wanna be me. I wanna go back home.”

“Me too, sweetie,” Allison mumbled as the world began to fade. “Me too.”

* * *

 

South blinked back into consciousness and the face of Dr. Grey grinning unnervingly down at her. “Well, good morning, sleepyhead! You’ve been out for quite a while!”

“Ugh… You’re too chipper,” South groaned. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Na-ah-ah! We need to get you into physical therapy as soon as possible, or your muscles are gonna turn completely into jelly! It is  _ not  _ a pretty sight, I promise.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’ve been in a medically induced coma for nearly an entire year, sweetheart. Minus the occasional check up. We’ve had this discussion before, but I guess you don’t remember.” She shrugged. “That’s alright! But try not to scream this time, okay?”

Panic rose in her at an alarming rate and she struggled to calm her breathing. “What are you talking about? What happened to me? Where’s Siris?” Without waiting for an answer, South struggled out of bed and landed on the floor with a thump.

Grey plugged her ears just in time to prevent South’s shriek from bursting her ear drums.

She didn’t have legs. Wait, no, she did have legs. She also had another set of legs to go along with the first ones. And an entire fucking  _ torso  _ to go along with it. But not a human torso, oh no. It was a cow torso, with white fur and strawberry blonde spots that only showed under the right light. Oh gods, she had an udder, too, and it was hurting so fucking much from the fall.

The first thought that crossed her mind was to run. South tried to force herself to her hooves— feet, damn it,  _ feet, _ this isn’t real!— and ran for the door, but slipped and fell face forward onto the floor. Grey was yelling orders and people were grabbing her, trying to hoist her back onto the hospital bed as she kicked her feet and mooed in distress.

Then, someone grabbed her by the back of her head and shoved her head against their chest, whispering softly. It was just like what her mother did when she threw tantrums; just like her mother had taught her foster parents to help them control the wild child. South went limp in their arms as a needle pushed into her skin and she fell asleep.

The nurses laid South back in bed, checking her over for any damage. Grey sighed and rubbed her brow, suddenly exhausted. “Thank you, Connie. You’re a saint.”

“No need to thank me,” Connie said, staring sadly down at South. “I just had a feeling it would work.”


	15. Chapter 15

“South, it’s time for you to get up.” Though Connie’s voice was soft and sweet, South had learned soon enough to fear the sound. When Connie woke her, it meant daytime, and when it was daytime, that meant physical therapy.

“Five more hours,” she groaned. “No, five more years.”

Unreasonably strong hands tugged at South’s hooves and pulled, earning an indignant moo. “No, South, we’re getting up now. Today’s a special day…!” Connie added in a singsong voice.

That had her attention. South’s ears perked up and she finally opened her eyes. “Go on.”

“We’re gonna be integrating you into the herd today, with North’s help!”

Nevermind.

“Oh no you don’t!” Connie pulled South off the bed, who mooed in surprise and scrambled to gain purchase in the sheets, but only managed to drag them down with her. “Your brother’s waiting outside; don’t take too long-- he might just barge in here himself.”

South, now sprawled out on the floor, pressed her face against her mattress and sighed. She knew this day was coming, of course, but she wanted to avoid it as much as possible. When she visited her family as a child, she’d never felt comfortable around the taurs on the farm, especially not the calves her age. Humans had been a curiosity still to them at the time-- they weren’t allowed near school kids visiting for fear of injury, so the only humans they’d ever known were the ranchhands, far larger than she. They teased her for not being like them, even though the adults said she was North’s twin. Now that they were grown up, their bullying felt far worse. Just passing to and from physical therapy warranted stares and whispers from a distance, barely hiding their looks of wonder.

Hands on her flank drew South away from her thoughts. “You’re thinking too much about this, South,” Connie said in a quiet voice. “If anyone says anything you don’t like, just tell me or North. We’ll take care of it.”

She huffed. “Oh yeah, I’ll definitely go crying to mommy because someone hurt my feewings.”

“Well, you don’t have to call me mommy, but…” Connie grinned when South whipped her head towards her, face bright red. “Come on, if we wait any longer, North will be kicking down the doors.

 

* * *

 

South was never a fan of the spotlight, but this? This was unbearable. North made sure to introduce her to  _ every single cow and bull _ who approached them, and by the gods, were they a lot. A good quarter of them apologized for bullying her as calves, most of the bulls and a surprising number of cows commented on her beauty, and the rest of them blabbered on about what a wonderful herd leader North was. 

The children couldn’t keep their hands off her, much less than the adults. Little fingers grabbed at her fur and cooed at its softness; others pulled at her tail to get her attention, tugging so hard that she felt incredibly sore. One calf, barely a year old, tried latching onto her udder, which prompted a scare between both the cows and herself as she went into panic mode, trying to kick the calf off.

Despite it all, however, she was accepted far more readily than she’d expected. It… it actually made her smile.

After about an hour of meet and greet, they had drawn a crowd, everyone eager to meet the newest addition to the farm. Connie and North stayed by her side, both beaming at her with pride in their eyes. Finally, the crowd dissipated, leaving only a few stragglers behind.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” North squeezed her shoulder. “They loved you!”

South rolled her eyes, pouting. “Yeah, sure they did.” He was right, but she didn’t want to admit it after all her complaining and worrying.

One of the stragglers, a nervous looking clydesdale, approached with Tex guiding him, hand on his flank. He was a handsome centaur, looking a lot like Connie, if she were a man, that was. His tail whipped back and forth and his eyes refused to meet hers. “Hey, South right? I’ve got someone who wanted to meet you.”

She snorted. “Sure doesn’t look like-- ow! Hey!” She rubbed the spot in her side North had rudely elbowed. “It’s true!”

The centaur flushed red. “My-- My name is CT. It’s nice to finally meet you. North told me a lot about you.”

“Come on, Corny--” South choked on a laugh. “Tell her. She’ll be happy to know. Don’t get shy on us now, asshat.”

CT shot a glare at Tex before glancing back apologetically at South. “The witch who cursed you… he cursed me too.”

South stared, jaw slack. Tex motioned for him to go on.

“I, ah… used to work for him. Undercover. I would feed the police information in exchange for information. He found out, turned me into this.”

Tex gave his flank a pat. “I was CT’s contact in the force. I came here to keep watch on him-- it was my fault he got caught--” the centaur opened his mouth to argue, but Tex punched him gently-- “so I followed him here to make sure he’s safe.”

“Among other reasons,” North muttered under his breath. Whether or not she heard or cared, however, was unclear. 

“I never met the man himself, but I’ve heard stories. I’m just lucky he didn’t kill me.” CT shuddered. “I got here shortly after you, actually.”

Connie gave him a look that South barely missed.

“Anyways, I should go… See you guys later.” Then, in a shocking move, CT bent over and kissed Connie on the lips. “You especially.”

The woman’s face was bright red as CT galloped off, Tex trailing behind, turning even redder under South’s stare. “What? You’ve never seen a girl get kissed by her boyfriend before?”

“N-no! It’s just… I thought…”

She smiled. “You thought I was single? Not quite. But it’s not like I’m completely off the market,” Connie added with a wink. “Good night, South.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://bibarrybluejeans.tumblr.com/
> 
> please consider supporting my ko-fi or commissions so i can keep writing TWG

**Author's Note:**

> leonerdchurch.tumblr.com


End file.
